Hafez · Ghazal 421 · The Magians' house was swept
در سرای مغان رفته بود و آب‌زدهنشسته پیر و صلایی به شیخ و شاب زده
سبوکشان همه در بندگیش بسته کمرولی ز ترک کله چتر بر سحاب زده
شعاع جام و قدح نور ماه پوشیدهعذار مغ‌بچگان راه آفتاب زده
عروس بخت در آن حجله با هزاران نازشکسته کسمه و بر برگ گل، گلاب زده
گرفته ساغر عشرت فرشته رحمتز جرعه بر رخ حور و پری گلاب زده
ز شور و عربده شاهدان شیرین‌کارشکر شکسته، سمن ریخته، رباب زده
سلام کردم و با من به روی خندان گفتکه ای خمارکش مفلس شراب‌زده
که این کند که تو کردی به ضعف همت و رای؟ز گنج‌خانه شده خیمه بر خراب زده
وصال دولت بیدار ترسمت ندهندکه خفته‌ای تو در آغوش بخت خواب‌زده
بیا به میکده حافظ که بر تو عرضه کنمهزار صف ز دعاهای مستجاب زده
فلک جنیبه‌کش شاه نصرت‌الدین استبیا ببین ملکش دست در رکاب زده
خرد که ملهم غیب است بهر کسب شرفز بام عرش صدش بوسه بر جناب زده
A door has been swept clean and a welcome is being called out to young and old: you are invited into a place of joy and answered prayers. But the old man of the tavern also gives a kind reproach. Do not leave your treasure for ruins, and do not sleep through your good fortune. This is a time to wake up, gather your will, and accept the welcome being offered. Fortune is awake; meet it with open eyes.
The Magians' house had been swept and sprinkled with water;
the elder sat there, calling a welcome to old and young.
The jar-bearers had all girded themselves to serve him,
yet with the tilt of their caps they had pitched a canopy above the clouds.
The gleam of cup and goblet had veiled the light of the moon;
the cheeks of the Magian boys had waylaid the sun.
The bride of fortune, in that chamber, with a thousand graces,
had curled her locks and sprinkled rosewater on the petal of the rose.
The angel of mercy had taken up the cup of pleasure
and with its dregs sprinkled rosewater on the faces of houris and fairies.
With the clamour and revelry of the sweet-working beauties,
sugar was broken, jasmine scattered, the rebab played.
I greeted him, and with a smiling face he said to me,
"O penniless one, wine-stricken, sick with last night's wine,
who does what you have done, with such weak will and judgement?
You left the treasure-house and pitched your tent among ruins.
I fear they will not grant you union with wakeful fortune,
for you are asleep in the arms of a drowsy fate."
Come to the tavern, Hafez, so that I can show you
a thousand ranks of prayers already answered.
The sky leads the spare horse for King Nosrat al-Din;
come and see how the angel holds his stirrup.
Reason, which is inspired by the unseen, to earn honour
has kissed his threshold a hundred times from the roof of the Throne.